Prisoners-of-War
by Punzie the Platypus
Summary: AU of the tent scene. Pocahontas cuts John Smith's ropes loose and they escape; their only chance to escape his execution and their peoples' imminent war lies in seeking shelter in Powhatan's tent and begging him to form a peace treaty with Ratcliffe.


_**Soli Deo gloria**_

 **DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Pocahontas.  
**

 **Because I like to see where certain scenes could go with one detail altered, I'm writing this:  
**

 **It starts when Nakoma walks Pocahontas to the tent where they're keeping John Smith, who's awaiting execution.**

"Pocahontas wants to look into the eyes of the man who killed Kocoum."

The guards cast their eyes away from the Chief's daughter and her friend and give them a jerk of their chins. "Be quick." They turn blind for their request.

Nakoma steps back and meets eyes with Pocahontas. Pocahontas feels her silent sympathy. She hopes Nakoma can't see the bright spark of determination and strength in her eyes. She smiles a little, sadly. Nakoma says nothing, but bows her head and takes another step back, giving her space.

Pocahontas sighs, and the bone blade she hides in her hand cuts into the cup of her palm. She impassively steps into the tent, the flaps hiding her in their folds.

She exhales softly when the moonlight pouring through the top of the teepee lets her see John Smith's back to her, his hands bunched together against the supportive pole. The rough rope chafes at his wrists. His breathing is slight. Is he awake? Asleep? Alive?

"John!" Pocahontas quickly kneels beside him, the smooth dirt against her bare knees. The blade is left on her lap as her graceful fingers cup his chin up so their eyes can meet.

His eyes open, and he smiles a little. "Pocahontas. I thought I'd never see you again."

"I'm so sorry, John." She leans her head against his warm chest. "It is hours before dawn, and already the drums of war beat." Outside, the men of the village arm themselves with staffs and bows and arrows; clay jars holding dark colored war paint are brought out to pronounce their warriors and frighten the enemy. The dogs of the village feel the thick tension,l and howl and bark. The entire village is overcast with the darkness that tells of imminent killing and slaughter.

It's nice to hide in here together.

"At this point, I'm guessing having a talk with your father won't help things," John says gently. Even in his final hours, he's got humor. It helps make these unbearable moments bearable.

"It's my fault," Pocahontas says.

"No, it isn't. None of this is. You're the only good part of this." John looks into her eyes and says sincerely, "I'd rather die tomorrow than live a hundred years and never know you."

"If only you could but not die tomorrow. I don't know what to do to stop this madness between our peoples. The only way I can think of is to talk to my father and beg him to have a council with your leader, to garner a peace," Pocahontas says. She straightens. There's a keen thought in her eye.

"I thought we put talking to your father out of the question? He'll never come to speak to me, a prisoner," John points out.

Pocahontas sits back on her legs. "But what if _we_ go to him?"

John's head tilts to the side, indicating the ropes around his hands. "I don't think it's likely we can do that." Then, suddenly, next to his ropes are Pocahontas's hands; with a quick jerk, she slices her blade upward, breaking the bonds and setting his hands free.

He brings his hands before him, gasping and amazed. They're free; the only thing left is the lingering pain and the redness at his wrists.

Pocahontas rounds him and holds his hands gently, her careful hands handling them with caution. One hand holds his strong arm above his wrist; the fingers of her other hand on his palm, tracing the lines of his strong hand.

"What have you done? Do you have a plan?" John asks eagerly.

Pocahontas looks up, and he sees pain in her dark eyes. "No. I have no plan. I only have the desire to stop this war between our peoples. I wish only for peace. And to save you from certain death. Those are my only two desires." Her body heaves heavy with a burdened sigh.

Now it is he who holds her chin up. "All right. We will stop this war. But first, one moment just for us." He leans in and ignores the pain and soreness his body has garnered from his rough position and kisses her gently, fervently, because this is a kiss they're not supposed to have had. She should be leaving and he should be dying in a few hours.

Instead she kisses him back. Closes her eyes for just a second, stays in this one protected moment forever.

Then she lets go and says, "We must hurry. The guards will no doubt wonder why I'm talking so long."

John stumbles to his feet as Pocahontas hurries to the far end of the teepee. She slashes the animal hides that make up the teepee from her height down. She rips her blade through the weather-worn teepee; she sees moonlight mingling with the dark background of her forest outside. Before Nakoma accompanied her to the tent, she'd surveyed the entire teepee from a tree; she'd gathered that guards were only posted at the front entrance. They'd searched John Smith and felt confident he had no means of blade to escape. Thus only guards at the entrance.

They never thought one would betray their own and rescue the prisoner.

Pocahontas sighs as she peeks through the crack one last time, to ensure that there is no one outside. They trust her. Even after she and John were discovered with Kocoum's dead body, they trusted her. They didn't think her loyalty to her people would be outdone by her love for a foreigner.

She hid it well enough for them not to see. Now she felt the heaviness of betrayal against her people grow in a pit in her belly.

She has to ignore it, for the greater good of her people. She has to execute this plan.

She gives her shoulder to John to lean on, and they peek out together.

"Is it safe?" he asks.

"There is no one in sight. They will discover us gone in a few minutes. In that time, we must get to my father's tent to hide. Darkness can conceal us, even if the moonlight won't," Pocahontas says.

John looks down into her intense face and says, "Thank you for rescuing me."

"You are not safe yet, John," Pocahontas says quickly.

"Almost," he says.

"'Almost' is not safe enough. We must go _now_ ," Pocahontas says.

He grasps her hand.

She looks into his eyes.

Both hear the guards becoming restless outside the entrance.

Heads together, they flee the teepee. They flee to hide in the shelter of Powhatan's tent. They run before they get caught trying to gain peace.

They run, and the war drums' beats mimic their heartbeats.

 **Thanks for reading!**


End file.
